


Old Habits

by twahtohnedskee



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Pointless fluff, ryssa's birthday gift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2013-08-09
Packaged: 2017-12-22 22:15:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/918653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twahtohnedskee/pseuds/twahtohnedskee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Grantaire has a habit, Enjolras is curious, and cuddles occur.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Habits

**Author's Note:**

> Written months ago for Ryssa's birthday over on tumblr but for some reason I only felt like uploading it to Ao3 now. Better late than never?

The first time they slept together on the same bed, Enjolras noticed Grantaire pressing his palm to the mattress before going to sleep. It was odd, definitely, but Enjolras shrugged it off. He wouldn’t have thought anything of it if it hadn’t happened the succeeding times they shared a bed as well. Apparently it was habit because no matter where they were sleeping, Grantaire did his little ritual. As much as Grantaire enjoyed waxing on about Enjolras’ “godly qualities” he was still human, and humans as a rule are curious. Enjolras never could control that aspect of himself. 

Grantaire was laying on his side, Enjolras’ body fitting snugly behind him. Enjolras reached up with one hand to play with dark curls, eliciting a sleepy yawn from the other man. As if on cue, Grantaire’s right hand came up to press against the mattress. Enjolras moved his hand from Grantaire’s hair and covered that hand with his own. 

“Why do you do that?” he asked, lacing their fingers together. It came out a bit more demanding than he had intended but Grantaire laughed. 

“Am I not allowed some mystery, Apollo?”

Enjolras bit his shoulder petulantly. “No.” 

Smiling, Grantaire unlaced their hands so that he could turn around and give Enjolras a lazy kiss. When things took a turn for the heated, the question at hand was momentarily forgotten. Enjolras pulled away, his fingers somehow back in Grantaire’s hair. 

“So why?” he repeated, tugging a little. 

Grantaire sighed and shook his head. “Nothing can distract you.” 

“I can think of a few things, actually.” Enjolras said with a smirk, that bastard. Grantaire went to kiss it off his face only to find himself dodged. 

“But” he continued, “not until you tell me.” 

Grantaire huffed. “And everyone says I’m the childish one.”

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. 

“Fine. Old habit, if you must know.” Grantaire rolled his eyes, “It’s from back when I was still living with my parents.”

Enjolras’ arm comes away from Grantaire’s curls to wrap around his waist. He knew that those memories weren’t easy for Grantaire to talk about. 

“When I was little,” Grantaire continued, “they’d have these fights so I’d hide under the covers, close my eyes, and press my hand to the bed. I’d pretend that somewhere, someone cared and was pushing back.”

There was silence for a while. Grantaire broke it with a bitter laugh. 

“Not what you expected, was it?”

“No” Enjolras admitted. 

“Yeah, it’s kind of stupid but you know what they say about old habits.” 

“It isn’t stupid.” 

For once Grantaire didn’t fight him on that. 

Enjolras shifted so that he was lying on his back and with a bit of tugging and manhandling, he got Grantaire to fit against his side. Their legs tangled under the sheets. Grantaire buried his head in Enjolras’ shoulder so he felt rather than saw Enjolras take his hand and place it on his chest. For the second time that night, Enjolras covered Grantaire’s hand with his own and R revelled at the way Enjolras’ heartbeat pressed back against his palm.

For someone so gifted in oration, Enjolras was very tactile with his feelings and Grantaire has long been practicing the art of decoding his Apollo’s actions. It wasn’t always as easy as it was tonight. For once, nothing could be clearer. He felt the sentiment with the steady thump-thump of Enjolras’ heart.

I’m here. I’m here. I’m here. 

And maybe that was the response he’d been looking for all along.


End file.
